


Of Idiocy

by melonbutterfly



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-07
Updated: 2009-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris isn't usually someone to think about stuff like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Idiocy

**Author's Note:**

> For (http://community.livejournal.com/trek_rpf_kink/1765.html?thread=1895141#t1895141) this prompt from the trek_rpf_kink meme

Chris isn't usually someone to think about stuff like that. Sure, he thinks a lot—it's one of his hobbies, thinking, though he doesn't overdo it like Zach tends to—but he isn't insecure or anything. He just likes to ponder the inner workings of the universe and how everything is connected and why it is that Brain works with Pinky every evening, trying to take over world domination, even though Pinky clearly isn't a candidate for the next Nobel price like Brain (and it must be something more than simple availability, yes?).

The first time he thinks it is triggered by nothing, or at least that's how it looks and feels like. He's surfing the Internet and talking to Zach on the phone simultaneously; they're googling each others names combined with random words and giggling over the crap they find. They're connected via IM as well and whenever one of them finds a picture that is so funny a mere description won't suffice they send each other links. Zach has just googled "Chris Pine naked" and is chuckling over the horrible photoshop images that pop up; the sound of his voice vibrates dulcet in Chris' ear and he's half not paying attention to whatever gallery he's clicking through at the moment. And suddenly the situation comes to him with the effect of a cold bucket of water; they're googling their own names, god damn it, and making fun of whatever the fans come up with. And each of them has his own bunch of fans, but most fans freak out over both of them, especially both of them combined. Would they still have so many fans if they weren't such good friends, Chris wonders while another part of his brain notes that it's so perfect, it's almost as if one of their agents had arranged it. Or both of them. At the same time, he remembers that before Star Trek they were nothing more but acquaintances and satisfied with that. Without that movie, they'd probably never have-

The thought makes him stop cold.

But this is not the time to think about that, he tells himself quickly and pushes the revelation (or whatever it is he just had) away to think about later. Later, when Zach isn't on the phone, besides it's totally ridiculous…

Is it really?, he wonders later and hates himself for it.

He spends several days not thinking about it—not thinking means, in this case, looking at Zach (for real if he's there, in his head if he's not) and wanting to punish himself for such thoughts. Zach wouldn't ever do something like that, would he?

Okay, so he has published faux paparazzi-style videos of himself just for fun and it's a well-known fact he likes to screw with the public by wearing questionable clothes, but that doesn't automatically mean he'd go to such an extent to build a friendship with Chris just to extent his fame. True, Zach is the one who finds that bromance-thing hilarious and it's mostly him who calls Chris to coordinate their outfits or whatever, but Chris calls him too, it's two-sided. Besides, sometimes he finds that bromance-stuff as annoying as Chris does, and Chris finds it funny sometimes too.

 _But that I'm honestly involved doesn't mean he is too_ , a traitorous voice whispers inside his head.

And Chris is disgusted with himself but has to acknowledge that clearly, not thinking about it doesn't work. So one evening he grabs some chocolate and goes outside, lies down on the grass in his backyard and stares at the stars and thinks.

He starts rationally with the fact. Fact is that before Star Trek, Zach and Chris knew each other—they sometimes crossed paths, had overlapping circles of friend, the same trainer, same choice of métier. Occasionally they would exchange a couple of words; barely small talk and mostly only when it would have been awkward not to exchange a couple of words.

And that was it. Neither Zach nor Chris had felt it necessary to deepen their contact; they never even thought about it—or at least, Chris hadn't. If he would have, he wonders, would he have decided not to because it appeared like they had not enough in common? He knows for a fact that's why so many people are fascinated with them; they look like they're totally different people (Chris is aware that nowadays he looks more like your next handsome college athlete who spends his time shared between parties and bedding random chicks while Zach looks like the brooding, intelligent, mysterious, fascinating, interesting, surprising and loveable guy he is), though there are more things they have in common than it seems. Books, for example; they both love reading and language. They _have_ spent entire evenings discussing words common in the English language but that are originally from a different one, and how and why they came to be common English words. They have the same kind of humour as well; neither can honestly laugh about these shows where other people are the butt of somebody's jokes or those compilations of homevideos of people who have spectacular-looking accidents. They both enjoy quiet evenings but are in for action as well; they plan to travel a lot, some time, explore different cultures and worlds. Both like to cook and they do it together often.

But there are things they don't have in common as well; Zach has a thing for hot, spicy meals, sour candy, salty liquorice, and that's a kind of masochistic streak Chris certainly doesn't share (chilli chocolate is his worst nightmare, honestly; he firmly believes that the guy who came up with it first originally only wanted to torture his (probably ex-)girlfriend). Chris likes easy, simple action movies while Zach hates them. And then there's-

It looks like a normal friendship, the two of them. Only it's not, because it's so much more amazing; Chris has never met someone he wants to know as much as Zach, has never met someone he seemed to already know so well even though they had barely a conversation before.

And it's that thought that's going to be his downfall, he knows it. He knows that now that he opened that can of worms, he can't close it again. And he wants to hate himself for thinking that, for doubting Zach and their friendship like that; Zach isn't someone who would ever do that. Befriend someone for popularity. He wouldn't.

Except Chris thought that about some of his other 'friends' as well and as soon as that Star Trek breakthrough came, it turned out that they most certainly would, and then there's the simple logical fact that everyone who has such a friend thinks that—they wouldn't be their friend if they had any reason to doubt their sincerity, after all.

But Chris shouldn't doubt Zach like that. He has no reason except his own insecure fears, and that's crazy. It's _crazy_. Nobody could fake a friendship like that, fake it so well, not even an actor as exceptional as Zach.

Only that their friendship is not fake doesn't say anything about why it was built in the first place, does it?

 _Fuck_ , he thinks with emphasis—he can't say it because his mouth is full of chocolate—and rolls onto his stomach to bury his head in folded arms. The grass tickles his throat, but he only has a short moment to notice because Zach (and it must be some kind of gene of his, this weird affinity to pop up whenever Chris is thinking real hard about him) is suddenly there and flops onto the ground next to him.

"What bothers you, my boy?", he says half jokingly-patronizing, half serious and runs a hand through Chris hair. "You can talk to Uncle Zach, I promise I won't retell."

Chris turns his head enough so he can look up at him with one eye and thinks. He really should tell Zach, he knows this is ridiculous after all, only he doesn't or he wouldn't think so much about it-

He sighs and turns on his back again, arms thrown over his head; his ribcage bumps into Zach's knees. The stars aren't bright enough to shadow his friend's face, and he sees the tender expression on it as Zach reaches again to run his fingers through his hair. It's a thing they do; sometimes it seems like they have no concept of personal space with each other, and that's fine. Chris knows that he hasn't even touched any of his partners as much as he touches or gets touched by Zach. And he doesn't want to, because this is Zach, and what they have isn't normal or ordinary in any way, except-

Chris swallows. Runs his tongue over his teeth to remove any trace of chocolate. Swallows again.

"Chris?", Zach says, and now he's worried as well, but still so tender, and-

Suddenly it all comes crashing down on him; that this is Zach, _Zach_ , his more-than-best-friend, the person he loves more than anyone else in the world (and it's so hard to admit because there's his family, his parents, his sister, his nephew, his other friends, but- _Zach_.) and the only one he shouldn't ever, ever doubt, and here he's doing exactly that, possibly ruining this best thing to ever have happened to him.

He sits up quickly, only barely managing to avoid crashing their heads together because Zach's bent over him, and flings his arms around Zach's neck, burying his face in his collarbone.

Zach is startled for a moment, Chris feels it, because while they touch often, they rarely actually hug and if they ever cuddle, it's only accidental because they were half-drunk and fell asleep on the sofa together. But then he carefully, almost tentatively as if Chris were breakable, puts his arms around him. One heartbeat, two heartbeats and then Zach's hold on him tightens and Chris takes a stuttering breath.

"What's wrong, Chris?", Zach whispers close to his ear, and he shudders. Wants to lick his lips, but licks Zach's throat instead, and now it's Zach whose breath stutters.

Chris pushes. He knows he won't be able to look Zach in the eyes when telling him about his idiocy; he's too ashamed, feeling horrible, and he doesn't want to see what his words do to Zach. It's cowardice, he knows, but he doesn't care.

So he pushes into Zach until Zach finally gets it and lies down; Chris adjusts his hold on him a little so he can lie comfortable, and then he pulls up one knee and sets it to the other side of Zach's hip so he's straddling him. He is stupid and mean; he thinks that if what he's going to say is going to hurt Zach so much he wants to get up and leave, he can disrespect his wish and hold on tight. Everything, as long as Zach doesn't leave.

It's childish, but his thoughts are too.

And he opens his mouth and lets them pour out.

Zach draws a sharp breath when he first realises what Chris is talking about; he tenses, and not in the good way. He's angry, Chris can feel it, and as he continues talking he feels how Zach's anger wanes to make room for hurt so he quickly proceeds to tell Zach that he knows he's being ridiculous and stupid and an asshole and he's _sorry_ and please, _please don't leave-_

"Chris!"

He stops mid-word and holds his breath, and Zach's arms are heavy on his back, one hand warm between his shoulders and the other warm in the small of his back, and he can take a small, careful breath. He's not crying, he's not, but he knows that if Zach leaves now he will bawl like a baby, and it will be only worse because it's his own stupidity, his own fault.

"Chris, look at me," Zach orders softly and his voice is tender, but Chris doesn't allow himself to feel hope, or better. He only shakes his head, trying not to think about the way Zach's stubble scratches his forehead, the way his hair must tickle Zach's ear.

Zach draws a breath and turns them to the side, pushes himself down so they'd be eye to eye if Chris were looking up, but he's staring fixedly at the collar of Zach's khaki-coloured t-shirt. It's mean how Zach looks good in every colour, even bright canary yellow; Chris looks strange in khaki, kind of wannabe.

But he's only trying to distract himself; now Zach is going to tell him that he's an idiot and that he sucks and that Zach can do without a friend like him, thank you very much.

Only Zach has put his hand under Chris' cheek and is caressing his jaw with the other; his thumb rubs over his chin and then he tilts his face up so Chris has to look at him unless he wants to be a complete coward and close his eyes, which he doesn't—Zach deserves at least that much, after he has disappointed and hurt him like that.

And there _is_ hurt in Zach's eyes; Chris flinches before he notices that it's a different kind of hurt, and it's accompanied with something else, something softer, something that, he suddenly realises, is only there for him, for Chris. It makes him feel even more foolish.

"You idiot," Zach says softly. "You're amazing and I'd be stupid not to adore you if you were a plumber or sandwich maker or unemployed or anything. It's _you_."

Chris opens his mouth, closes it again and swallows. He feels even more stupid now, even more foolish and childish and mean, but also like it's okay. Zach isn't angry. Maybe he's hurt, but it's okay.

"I-" he starts, stops, swallows again. "I kind of really love you," he says.

Zach smiles in a somehow breathless way and lets go a laugh, just as breathless. "I know, Chris." He slides closer until Chris' eyes almost cross, and then he kisses Chris. Softly, tenderly, like someone would kiss a sculpture of whipped cream, careful not to leave a mark.

"Are you serious?", Chris manages to say, and his voice is weak and breathy and shaky, but he doesn't care.

Zach laughs and it's shaky as well, but Chris doesn't care because Zach pushes him on his back and leans in to kiss him again.


End file.
